Be About It
Recently my boss invited an exceptionally inspirational human named Kevin Carroll to speak to our team. As Kevin spoke we were introduced to the vibrant characters that shaped his childhood and the unexpected places his careers had taken him. We laughed, we cried, and sometimes we laughed so hard we cried. Throughout his journey, he explained, he had lived by a mantra his grandfather taught him: Don’t talk about it, be about it.
When I heard this, naturally I labeled myself a “be about it” kind of girl. In high school I was the valedictorian and captain of the dance squad. In college I joined a hockey team even though I could barely ice skate. I moved to Colorado without knowing a soul because I wanted to be near the mountains. I started my Roth IRA when I was 24 because…you know…retirement! And the list went on.
Don’t talk about it. Be about it.
Kevin repeated this mantra throughout his talk, and I slowly began to feel uneasy. Something was coming up, quietly bumping against my consciousness. My legs started to feel antsy. My face got warm. I put on my best poker face in the hopes that my teammates wouldn’t notice the rather uncomfortable realization I was having. You see, in significant parts of my life, I wasn’t a “be about it” kind of girl at all.
As it turns out, when it comes to things that matter the most to me, I often just talk about it. At any given moment I have several ideas bouncing around my brain about how I want to show up in my relationship, how I can use my talents to help people, and how I can advocate for farmed animals and plant-based eating. I think about these things a lot. And I constantly talk about them with my friends and family. For me these are conversational topics that keep on giving, and I’m always coming up with some new idea about how I can do something meaningful or create change.
I wanted to get back into teaching yoga, particularly to populations with limited access. I wanted to offer financial education classes to help people make more informed decisions about money. I wanted to listen with empathy without immediately trying to correct my partner’s perceptions. I wanted to pause when I’m reactive and give myself time to identify my needs before revisiting the conversation. I wanted to write a children’s book about the similarities between cows and companion animals. I wanted to start an Instagram account for sharing stories about the intelligence and emotional lives of animals. At least, I repeatedly talked about wanting to do these things.
I realized that the uneasiness I was feeling stemmed from the disconnect between having such deep passions yet not taking action to support them. I recognized how hollow it was to claim that I wanted to make a difference when I wasn’t putting effort into transforming my ideas into reality. And eventually, when my introspection was complete, I became aware of my own lack of trust in myself to follow through when the stakes are high. And in this case, the stakes couldn’t be higher! Connecting deeply with others, helping people grow, and advocating for animals–each of these fuels a strong sense of purpose in my life.
Now I know that Kevin’s intention was to inspire action. He wanted to light a spark that with a dusting of encouragement might build an undeniable fire under my feet. So when I noticed that I was starting to shame myself for my lack of effort, I invited in some compassion. I decided to be gentle and curious about this pattern so I could understand what was holding me back and choose a different path forward.
My struggle with trusting myself is a significant project to dive into, and I’m grateful for this awareness. But Kevin’s story ultimately reminded me that right now (today!) I can choose to do something. Thinking and planning are useful, of course, and sharing my ideas with friends can generate support. But I can’t stop there. If I want to make an impact in these meaningful areas of my life, I have to take action. I have to take a step–even a small one–toward the change I want to see.
Thank you for the nudge, Kevin. I’m committed. I’m not just going to talk about it, I’m going to be about it.